


your crazy matches mine

by TheSushiMonster



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Shameless Smut, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 16:59:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19398481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/pseuds/TheSushiMonster
Summary: SANSA: maybe i’m just terrible at sexTHEON: you’re not bad at sex sansaSANSA: how would you know?THEON: good pointi guess we’ll just have to sleep together so i can give you a performance reviewSANSA: typing…THEON: typing…SANSA: okayOr, in which Theon and Sansa accidentally become friends with benefits.





	your crazy matches mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kattyshack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattyshack/gifts).



> This is 8k of smut and texting. Nothing else, really.
> 
> Background mentions of Robb/Margaery and Dany/Yara.
> 
> Titles comes from "i like the way" by lovelytheband (highly suggested listening while reading!)

****

******May**

 **THEON:** you alright?  
just saw you running out of the bar without saying goodbye…  
Harry looked pissed

 **SANSA:** fuck Harry  
he can die in a fire i don’t care  
or maybe i’ll set Arya lose on him

 **THEON:** so not alright.  
do i need to hurt him?

 **SANSA:** No it’s fine. We broke up. He’s a jerk.

 **THEON:** i’m sorry.

 **SANSA:** Don’t be. It’s probably a good thing. Just wish I hadn’t slept with him.

 **THEON:** he hit it and quit it with you?? brb

 **SANSA:** Theon!  
don’t!  
i keep hooking up with assholes

 **THEON:** well you know what they always say  
you gotta fuck a lot of frogs to get a good frog.

 **SANSA:** that’s not the saying. or any saying.  
maybe i’m just terrible at sex

 **THEON:** you’re not bad at sex sansa

 **SANSA:** how would you know?

 **THEON:** good point  
i guess we’ll just have to sleep together so i can give you a performance review

 **SANSA:** _typing_ …

 **THEON:** _typing_ …

 **SANSA:** okay

 **THEON:** jk you don’t have to  
wait  
really?

 **SANSA:** i mean sure why not

 **THEON:** that’s… enthusiastic

 **SANSA:** hold on i’m coming back

 **THEON:** wait now?

  
  


If someone asks, Theon would say he’s _not_ searching the entrance for a flash of red hair and bright blue eyes. This, of course, is a lie because that’s exactly what he’s doing.

With Robb and Margaery making out in the corner booth and Arya and Bran leaving to study for finals, Theon’s alone. So he waits, his foot tapping against the bottom of the counter, arms crossed. 

And waits.

Checks his phone again to make sure he’s reading correctly.

 _And waits_.

Hours later - it’s likely just minutes - she arrives.

Sansa arrives with a skip - in his heart, as his nerves threaten to tear him apart - almost tripping over nothing. Almost hidden behind other patrons, her red hair is beacon. And although she scans the bar looking for him, Theon doesn’t need to wave for her to spot him immediately.

“Hi,” she says when she reaches him; she’s flushed, maybe from the cold or from running over here. Theon’s not exactly sure. But he’s warm too.

“Hi.”

Sansa glances over his shoulder, to her brother and his girlfriend, before biting her lip. “Can we go someplace else? And - talk?”

The way she says the last word, _talk_ , as if it’s not quite the word she means but the only one that really applies… Theon grows warmer. “My place is just a couple blocks.”

Sansa’s smile is hesitant, but still… warm. As he leads them outside in the late May heat and down a few streets, they don’t talk. The silence isn’t suffocating, but it’s crackling with tension. Her words still flash between his eyes - _i mean sure why not_ \- and his stomach is tied up in knots. 

But even as Sansa walks beside him, he catches glimpses of skin under her backless dress, her long legs gliding in flats, the way her hair flows around her. Theon can only imagine touching her red curls - a waterfall of fire over his fingers… he already fears he might burn.

When they reach the apartment, Theon lets her in first. He hesitates for a moment - almost pinching himself - before sighing and locking the door behind him. 

The apartment is still - quiet, except for the noise of late Friday traffic - and he has yet to turn on the lights. Instead, Sansa is dressed in shadows.

“We don’t have to - ”

Sansa kisses the words right off his lips, swallowing them whole. He groans into her mouth, sinking into her as she melts into his arms. His hand travels up her back, her skin so warm against his. Even as she pushes them back against the door, her hands holding his face in the perfect angle, Theon knows this isn’t enough. It may never be enough. And if this is his only chance…

He spins them around, his hand cradling her head. Her squeal into his lips makes him grin; his free hand runs down her sides, down the curve of her waist… they slip to her ass and Sansa arches against him. “ _Theon_ \- ”

The syllables of his name have never sounded so beautiful. Or sexy.

His kisses travel down her neck, her collarbone. Her moans aren’t that loud, but breathy, and they tickle the edge of his curls. He tastes her skin, of sweat and vanilla, and it’s mouth-watering. When she thrusts against him again, Theon growls into her shoulder, grazes her skin with his teeth. She moans, louder, her calf caracessing his. Taking that as a sign, Theon lifts her thigh onto his hip, which lets his hand lower to the curve of her ass again. With the soft swell of her skin under his hand, he grins into her neck again.

“Bedroom?” she asks, breathless. Theon kisses her again, thrusts forward once more… just to see Sansa shiver, her grip on his hair tightening. Then, he lets her go. 

But not completely, taking her hand. Silently, he tilts her head - _are you sure?_

Sansa smiles and follows him.

Once in his room, Sansa tugs at his shirt. “Take it off.”

Theon doesn’t hesitate to comply. 

Sansa’s hands are on him again immediately, tracing the ridges of his chest; while her fingers on him is distracting, the promise of seeing _Sansa_ shirtless… He tugs at the strap of her dress “You too.” Sansa kisses his chest, just above his heart, and it flips over as she turns. Theon unzips her, slowly, because each new inch of skin revealed makes his blood run hotter.

There’s a moment where he questions it all - as if this is just a dream and not reality… but then the dress falls to the ground and Sansa Stark is in his bedroom almost naked.

“Fuck.” She spins and Theon suspects she may be self-conscious, because her arms move to cover herself. But he quickly shakes his head and holds her wrists, his thumbs drawing circles on the skin. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

Instead of covering herself, Sansa blushes as she pulls him backward, closer to the bed. As she sinks down into it, she reaches behind her and unhooks her bra; the lacy contraption falls away and Theon can barely breath. Something on his face must scream _fucked_ because Sansa grabs his neck and pulls him down to cover her, kissing him fiercely with teeth and tongue.

His hand travels up her thigh, over her stomach, to her chest. Gently, at first, he kneads her breast and his thumb grazes over her nipple. Sansa gasps and Theon moves to kiss her neck. When his lips reach the spot right behind her ear, he squeezes his hand, flicking the hardened nipple with a finger and Sansa moans, squeezing her legs around his thigh. “You like that?”

Sansa kisses his hair. “Yes.”

“Good.” Theon keeps his hand where it is, massaging, but his mouth travels downward. Down her neck, her shoulder, until his tongue is flicking the nipple of the other breast. Sansa grabs his hair, keeping him there. Grazing his teeth against her breast, he grins in triumph. She’s enjoying herself and he’s enjoying her.

He touches everything he can - down her sides, over her stomach. Her thighs in his hands… his thumbs playing with the straps of her underwear. “Sansa?’ he breathes into the space in the middle of her chest. Her grip loosens and he looks up at her. “What do you want?”

“You.” She tugs at his hair but he doesn’t move. His heart clenches in his chest; every part of him burns with her words. “ _Theon_ \- ”

“I’m going to go down on you.” He kisses the top of each breast. “Is that okay?”

“Oh.” Theon raises an eyebrow as Sansa’s flush deepens, spreading from her cheeks to her shoulders, down her chest… Theon follows it with his lips. “Oh, Theon, _please_ \- yes.”

So he kisses lower. Her fingers say tangled in his hair as she spreads her thighs for him. The strip of cotton and lace between him and _her_ \- Theon kisses over it, gently with only lips and Sansa moans again. Lifting her hips, she helps Theon push off the cloth and kicks it off herself. Chuckling, Theon massages her thighs. “You alright?”

“I’d be better if you got on with it.” She sounds calm, leveled, but there’s a slight crack in her voice. “Theon… please.”

Theon can’t deny her, not when she asks so nicely, with so much want… and he doesn’t want to deny himself either. But he takes his time, kissing each thigh first, then just beneath her belly button - she giggles at that - before finally bringing his lips to her clit.

And then all he can think about is her. Her reactions, her breathing, the movement of her muscles. She’s saying things but he can’t hear, he can only _feel_.

And it’s quietly earth-shattering.

Somewhere between savoring her taste on his tongue and absorbing each shudder and grinning at every moan, Sansa climbs closer to her orgasm. She’s louder, her grip on his hair tighter, her muscles taut. So Theon kisses harder, _willing_ her without words to _come_ … and she does, an explosion of nectar on his lips, her hips lifted off the bed, one hand still in his hair but the other clutching the sheets as a tether.

When she sinks back onto the bed, panting, Theon kisses her inner thigh. “Good?”

Instead of answering, Sansa tugs him upward. Her hands clutch at his biceps, and if he flexes it’s completely involuntary. He can still smell her on his lip and when she kisses him, she moans into his mouth, tasting herself. Theon grows harder, his cock fighting against his boxers and trying to get closer to her heat.

Her hand wanders lower, slipping beneath his boxers; her fingers are on his ass, squeezing, and Theon thrusts into the bed with a groan. “Sansa - ”

“Condom.” 

With a deep exhale, Theon searches through his drawers until he finds one. Tossing it on the bed, he watches her face as he drops his boxers; her eyes darken and she licks her lips, gaze completely focused on his dick.

It grows harder at the sight, if possible.

Her leg reaches out to him, foot against his calf as she pulls him closer. Stroking himself, Theon reaches for the condom, but Sansa beats him to it. “Let me,” she whispers, eyelashes fluttering and cheeks tinted pink. She’s still glowing from her orgasm but she eagerly rips open the plastic. When her fingers touch him, even through the latex when she rolls on the condom, Theon worries he might not last very long at all.

“You are…” her voice trails off, eyes still trained on him, even as her fingers explore the dips of his hips and back. “Wow.”

Theon can’t help but preen at the praise; he’s throbbing and he’s hard and she’s _praising him_ and it’s almost too much. “Sansa - ” FInally, she looks up, biting her lip and Theon pulls her to the edge of the bed by her thighs, standing between them. “Ready?”

In response, Sansa hooks her legs around his hips as she slides forward and closer, opening up to him. His eyes fall immediately to her center - pink and glistening and he can still taste her on his lips - before her words draw his gaze back up. Smirking, she raises an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Theon pushes forward, his cock circling her entrance before slowly sinking into her. There’s a moment where she tenses, but Theon stills and waits before she relaxes. And then he’s inside Sansa and she’s staring at him with bright eyes and mouth open and Theon kisses her.

Her fingers are digging into his back when Theon finally moves, pulling back and in, thrusting with precision. Sansa moans into his shoulder and he lifts one leg higher to get a better angle - at this, she arches more, pushes back, meeting his thrusts with her own. He knows he’s cursing into her lips, into her neck, into the nipple he kisses and swirls with his tongue. 

The fire has spread from her heat into him; his toes and fingers feel weightless, powerful, and Theon knows he’s close. But maybe he can have her join him. With one foot on his shoulder and the other parked on the side of the bed, she’s open wide so Theon stands straighter, thrusts harder, and brings his fingers down to her clit. Circling, he feels her walls clench around him, a flutter of feeling, and Sansa moans his name. Pleased, he circles faster, thrusts harder, grits his teeth to remain in control.

It all feels so _good_ \- Sansa around him, her moans turning into gentle screams, her nails digging into his arms. She grips him so tightly before letting go and Theon isn’t sure if she’s actually come, but his rope has snapped and with quick thrusts, he’s gone, spilling into her.

His exhale is loud and deep and he might laugh too. “Wow.” Sansa lays unmoving on his bed, one hand on her face and the other still gripping his arm. He’s still in her; the heat is addicting. “You good?”

The hand around her face drops beside her. “Incredibly.” Her fingers draw spirals on his forearm. “Wow.”

Chuckling, Theon slowly pulls out of her to dispose of the condom. Before leaving, he memorizes this moment - the image of Sansa Stark, red hair splayed around her, breathless and satisfied, lying on _his sheets_. It’s engraved now; he can’t forget it even if he tries.

When he returns from the bathroom, condom disposed and cleaned-up, Sansa is already half-dressed. Theon tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. “Leaving?” he says instead, leaning casually - and still completely naked - against the doorway. 

Sansa glances at him, briefly, red already growing again on her cheeks as she throws her dress back on. Back to him, she straightens her hair. “Yeah.” Glancing backwards, she bites her lip. “Zip me up?”

It’s not the seductive tone of earlier; it’s quieter, nervous. Theon doesn’t like it, so he walks over and zips up her dress. But before moving back, he lowers his voice. “You are not bad at sex, Sansa Stark.” He doesn’t mean for his lips to almost graze the back of her neck, or for goosebumps to dance across her skin. But if they _do_ … he isn’t going to apologize.

Sansa turns quickly, almost surprised, as she studies his face. She doesn’t step away from him, lips just inches away from his; Theon thought, maybe, after being buried deep inside her the tension would have eased. But Sansa’s eyes are a dark blue and Theon wants to do it all over again.

Her whisper is warm against his skin. “Thank you.” Clearing her throat, she shakes her head and steps back. “Thank you,” she repeats, voice a bit more steady.

Theon runs a hand through his hair. He understands: the walls back up. So, with a teasing tilt to his lips, he smirks. “If you ever want a repeat, you know where to find me.”

Sansa rolls her eyes, but the smile escapes anyway. “Right.” A moment of hesitation - but then she sighs and shakes her head. “Good night, Theon.”

Sansa slips out of his apartment before he can untangle his thoughts.

  
  


**SANSA:** i think i did something stupid

 **MARGAERY:** you think?

 **SANSA:** i slept with theon

 **MARGAERY:** oh no

 **SANSA:** and i really liked it

 **MARGAERY:** oh nooooo

 **SANSA:** and i kinda wanna do it again

 **MARGAERY:** OH NO

 **SANSA:** snap me out of it!

 **MARGAERY:** i’ll be honest  
i have never once heard you say you’ve enjoyed sex  
so

 **SANSA:** so?  
it’s THEON

 **MARGAERY:** doesn’t that make it better?  
That it’s theon, of all people?

 **SANSA:** fuck  
i’m going to sleep with him again aren’t i?

 **MARGAERY:** get it girl

  
  


**June**

A week later, and the memories don’t fade - Theon’s arms around her, his kisses on her skin, his lips on _her_ … everything about him as he lost himself in her as she drowned in him. It’s an itch that won’t go away, no matter how hard Sansa tries to forget.

Or how many times she tries to take care of the problem herself.

So Sansa makes a decision. She decides not to text him beforehand; she isn’t sure if it’s because she’s afraid she will back out or if he will, but something about seeing him in person - the thought claws at her.

Which is why, on this Saturday afternoon, Sansa knocks on the door of Theon’s apartment.

When it swings open, Theon gapes. “Sansa?”

“You home alone?” Her eyes flicker behind him, to check and make sure he doesn’t have company. It’s the only variable she can’t account for, the only negative to not texting beforehand. Theon blinks a few times but frowns and steps back. She slips into the apartment. “Well?”

“Just me,” he says, his voice a bit hoarse. Confusion is written in each wrinkle but now, after locking the door, he scratches his scruff. “What’s up?”

It’s too much - the veins of his forearms, the muscles of his arms flexing in his tank top. His hair - messy, unruly, all over the place - falls over his forehead and curls at his ears. And his eyes - bright, blue, shining - are staring at her with wonder…

“I’m here to give you a blowjob.”

Theon chokes on nothing. “Wha - _what_?"

Sansa moves into his space, a hand on his chest. His tank-top is thin and has holes in several places; it works to her benefit, however, since her fingers linger on skin. “I want you in my mouth,” she says again, mostly surprising herself at what she’s saying. Her eyes flicker to his. “If - if that’s what you want?” Internally, she curses for making it sound like a question - of course, she wants him to _want_ her, but she’s trying to sound _confident_.

Theon grabs her hand and holds it still over his chest. “Is it what _you_ want?” His eyes darken, not moving off her own. She’s so close and he’s only wearing a pair of gym shorts, so it’s easy to feel him growing harder against her leg. So Sansa nods. Theon exhales, his grip on her hand lessening.

But before Sansa can move, Theon kisses her, hands on her cheeks and holding her face to him. It’s hard and fast and Sansa can barely breathe, let alone think, her hands curling into the thin cotton of his top. Maybe more of it rips; she doesn’t really know because Theon is pushing her up against a couch and his lips are massaging her tongue and there’s sparks dancing in her stomach and probably lower.

When she feels the couch against her legs, she breaks the kiss and instead lingers on his neck. “Sit down,” she says, spinning them around. Gently, she pushes him back and Theon spreads his legs. He stares up at her, that same look in his eye that makes her want to hide behind her hair but also climb on top of him. Sansa compromises by kneeling before him and pulling down his shorts.

His hand moves to her face, caressing her cheek. “Sansa - ” he starts, but she doesn’t really want to hear it, not yet, so she cups him instead. He’s so warm in her hands and the heat travels down her spine. Groaning, Theon’s hand sinks into her hair. “God, you’re incredible.”

“Haven’t done anything yet.” She pulls off his boxers too, so they hang around his ankles until he kicks them off. Now he’s mostly naked in front of him, in an old and torn tank-top, cock out and pointed straight up. Licking her lips, Sansa pulls him towards her, hands on his surprisingly muscular thighs, never looking away from the prize in front of her. Because while she has done this before - gone down on a guy, had him in her mouth, even swallowed once - something feels different about _this_. 

This she actually _wants_. It’s unnerving, but not unwelcome, to _want_ to make Theon come undone, to have him at her mercy. The idea of him with his hands pulling at her hair while shaking, her lips working him over - Sansa squirms, squeezing her legs together.

“You’re turned on,” says Theon, his eyes twinkling in navy. Sansa almost expects him to be smirking, smug, but instead he’s grinning with something like happiness. “Fuck me,” he groans.

Sansa smirks for him, instead. “Gladly.” And she then licks him, from bottom to top, one long stroke. He tastes of salt and citrus, as if he’s just showered; it tastes odd, but not unpleasant, and she tastes him again when she swirls her tongue over the head of cock. Theon’s fingers massage her scalp and Sansa brings a hand to the work him over, slowly, before spreading her lips and taking him in her mouth.

Theon groans again and she can feel the vibrations in her chest. Sansa works diligently - she studies his reactions: when he tenses and when he exhales and when he curses. When she twists her hand and applies pressure at the same time as a suction on the head of his cock, he thrusts up and curses loudly and his free hand digs into the cushions.

“Do I need to get a towel?” he croaks, just after Sansa slows down, knowing he’s slowly losing himself. 

Lifting her head, Sansa finally looks up at him. His hair is somehow messier than when she first arrived and his face is flushed. But there’s a nervousness in her stomach… so she nods, feeling her face go warm. “I can get it - sorry I should have - ”

Despite the awkward angle, Theon leans over and kisses her silent. It’s gentle and sweet, but also firm. “Don’t. You’re on your knees fucking me with your mouth - we are doing this _your_ way, Sansa. Don’t apologize for being comfortable.” With another quick peck, he quickly goes to retrieve a towel and tosses it over his knees before leaning back. With a smirk, he crosses his hands behind him back. “As you were.”

Rolling her eyes, Sansa tries not to smile. Instead, she continues - pumping him with her hands and mouth, rebuilding that tension in his thighs; one hand eventually falls back to her hair twisting in it. He doesn’t push her, but he does guide her, his groans growing deeper and louder again. She picks up the pace as Theon begins to match her rhythm with his hips. 

Until Theon gently pushes her away. “Oh god,” he moans, when she removes her mouth and continues to use her hands, stroking him in quick motions. Faster and faster until he spills with a _fuck_ all over fingers and onto the towel, narrowing avoiding strands of her hair.

Theon touches the hand still holding onto his softening cock. “Holy fuck.” His gaze locks onto hers, piercing, and Sansa squirms all over again. “Give me a second and then it’s your turn.”

“You don’t have to - ”

“There is no way in hell you are depriving me of the chance to taste you again.” Sansa blushes, especially after Theon wipes her hands clean with the towel and tosses it aside. His hands move down to her sides; Sansa stands, between his legs, as Theon kisses her stomach, her hips, just over the band of her shorts. Lifting her shirt, he moans. “Would you rather sit down or do you want sit on my face.”

Sansa isn’t sure if it’s his words, whispers sinking into her skin, or the vibrations tickling her sides but she feels herself growing hotter, looser, wetter. “Second one,” she says, barely, as he sucks at a spot just below her hip. Unbuttoning her shorts, she shoves them off with his help before her panties join them on the floor. Theon grabs her ass without hesitation, pulling her closer.

Hands in his hair, Sansa looks down. Theon smirks at her. “Ready for a ride?”

And before Sansa can call him out on how _bad_ that was, she can’t think of anything at all.

  
  


**THEON:** how many times did you and dany sleep together before it counted as dating?

 **YARA:** uh four times?

 **THEON:** halfway there then

  


When Theon invites Sansa over a few days later, it is completely with the intention that they _talk_ . Communicate. Get on the same page. He’ll cook them dinner, they will eat, and maybe, _maybe_ after a nice conversation about expectations and boundaries, he will strip her naked and make her come once or five times.

But Sansa arrives that evening in a sundress and sandals, hair braided to the side and before he can even offer her a glass of water - because he doesn’t have any alcohol, not anymore - Sansa props up on the kitchen table and pulls him between her legs, kissing him soundly while undoing his belt and sticking her hands down his pants. 

Naturally, Theon has no other option than to make her come once - or five times - _before_ dinner.

After doing so, and after wiping down the table, Theon feeds Sansa pasta and garlic bread. Somewhere after his second bowl, Sansa’s fork rattles against her bowl.

“What are we doing, Theon?”

Sighing, he puts down his own fork. “We’re fucking.” Sansa hands flattens on the table and Theon leans forward, elbows on the table. “I quite enjoy what we’re doing.”

Her eyes narrow. “I do too.”

“Then we keep doing it. Doing each other.” 

Sansa leans back in her chair, head slightly tilted. “And we keep it to ourselves? You know my family…”

“I do,” he says. Her family is large and loud and incredibly caring and kind… but _incredibly_ nosy. “We keep it ourselves.”

With a grin, Sansa stands and tugs him up too. “Perfect. Now do that thing with your fingers.” 

Theon laughs and follows her to the bedroom. He’ll do the dishes later. 

  
  


It becomes something of a routine - every couple of days, Theon would text her asking her if she wants to hang out. She would say come over, they would have sex, then share a meal or watch a movie or… hang out. Sometimes they went over to Sansa’s if her roommate was going to be out - those times they usually had a quickie, kept it short and hot. 

June is almost over when they’re at Theon’s again. The movie they had been watching is paused in the background, Sansa’s skirt pushed up past her hips, panties around her ankles. Leaning over the side of the couch, Sansa has one leg propped up beside her as Theon thrusts into her from behind. He leaves kisses along her spine, a hand massaging her ass. It’s slow and deep and intense and Sansa can barely stand anymore, shaking every time his pelvis grinds against her and his thumb circles her clit.

Theon claims Sansa isn’t a screamer - a moaner, for sure, and there have been times where she’s needed to bite his shoulder to prevent waking up the neighbors. Theon himself is a dirty talking grunter, which is both incredibly frustrating and incredibly sexy. Right now, however, Sansa knows he is focused because his moans are stifled, determined to have her come first. Clutching to the back of the couch for balance, Sansa has her other wrapped around his arm, the muscles in his biceps flexing to her touch. 

It’s when Theon stops, deep within her, his thumb ghosting spirals over her clit, and leans over to her ear that Sansa feels like she could fall apart. And when he whispers, “I want to feel you come on my cock, fall apart in my arms. Come for me, love,” before thrusting into her, hard and deep, she shatters.

And she might let out a tiny scream.

“You done then?”

The voice comes from behind the door, through the - apparently thin - walls. 

Theon freezes, still hard inside her.

“Yara?” he asks, and when he shifts, slowly pulling out Sansa mourns the loss. “What the hell - ”

“Don’t worry, baby brother, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Sansa imagines she leans against the door since her voice is a bit louder. Sansa should probably get up and put on her clothes, but Theon still stands naked and semi-hard behind her. “Just wanted to see if you wanted to get dinner when you didn’t answer my texts… but now I know why.” Cursing under his breath, Theon reaches for his phone. Yara laughs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Theon. Tell the lady I say hi - and if she wants a better orgasm to call me.”

“You have a girlfriend!”

“Bye Theon!”

Yara’s laughter fades as Theon throws his phone back onto the couch. “Fucking Yara.” Sansa turns, leaning against the couch, hands resting on its side. Groaning, Theon runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry - ”

Sansa waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it - better her than Robb.”

“Right.”

The awkwardness feels a little stifling… but Theon’s growing hard in his condom again, and maybe it’s because she’s pushing out her breasts and biting her lip. Theon catches her eye. “You never did come,” she says, tilting her head. If her hair cascades down her shoulders… well…

Theon walks to her and leans over, arms on either side of her. Caged in, Sansa lets her hands wander across his body. His lips land on her neck, kissing along the sensitive sin, sucking and grazing his teeth. “You’re beautiful.” 

Sansa feels her heart clench. “You’re not so bad yourself, Theon Greyjoy.”

Theon lifts her thighs on his forearms and enters her again, never looking away.

  


**July**

“I’m never letting you choose the movie ever again.”

Theon presses a hand to his chest. “I am offended! I have incredible taste.” When Sansa rolls her eyes as she drops her purse onto the couch, Theon locks the door. “How can you not enjoy a movie with no story but guns and explosions and attractive woman as background decorations?”

Sansa shakes her head. “Exactly.”

“Pizza okay for dinner?” Sansa gives him a look - the _did you really just ask me that_ one, complete with furrowed eyebrows, cute lips pursed together in mock-irritation. He used to wish he could just kiss the look off her face - but _now_ \- he just does it. Sansa matches him, hand quickly curling into his hair - he’s found she really enjoys messing up his hair even more - before he parts. “I’m taking that as a yes.”

“Yes.”

So Theon orders an extra large pizza for them to share - he’ll probably make her take the leftovers, since it’ll have mushrooms on it and while he’ll eat it for _her_ , he won’t _keep_ it for her - on his phone. 

When he looks up, he finds Sansa staring at him with a twinkle in her eye. Theon is both nervous and wholly turned on. “What?” he asks in that tone that tells her he knows _exactly_ what she’s thinking but she needs to say it anyway.

“How much time do we have before the pizza gets here?”

Theon glances at the tracker on his phone. “Thirty minutes.”

Her grin is all his dreams and nightmares rolled into one. She steps towards him - _stalks_ , really, with a glint in her eyes and a smirk on her face, combined with the way she unbuttons her shirt, _seductively_ , because she’s not trying to be seductive but fuck him. She’s fucking _sexy_.

Especially with how the shirt slips off her shoulders and to the floor and Sansa stands in front of him in a lacy bra - as if it’s not at all for practical uses but for the sole purpose for him to see. And something about _that_ makes his already stiffening cock harden even further. “Sansa - ”

“I want to be on top.” 

Theon almost falls to his knees then and there, but somehow he makes to the bed first.

Sansa’s on him instantly, practically ripping his shirt off before unzipping his pants. Theon spends his time unhooking her bra and shoving her shorts down her thighs. They’re both quickly naked before Sansa goes searching in his drawer a condom. There shouldn’t be a pang in his chest at the sight of Sansa being so comfortable and _knowing_ exactly where he keeps his condoms, but Theon might have to accept there’s no alternative. Especially when Sasna swings a leg over, straddling him, before rolling on the condom - all in swift, precious movements, like she knows _exactly_ what she wants - and that’s him.

His fingers quickly find her clit, circling and dipping into her, but Sansa slaps his wrist. “Stop that.” Theon raises his hands in surrender, but Sansa quickly places them on her chest. “There we go.”

Theon is not about to object; instead, he takes advantage of his hand placement, massaging her breasts and flicking a nipple with his thumb. Sansa bites her lip, taking his cock in her hand and position herself over it. When she sinks down, it’s slow as she stretches and embraces him, warm and tight and wet and _fuck -_ it takes concentrated effort not to grab her hips and push up quick and fast and deep.

Instead, Sansa grabs his biceps to keep balance before circling her hips, grinding her clit against his pelvis. Her eyes flutter, a blush rising onto her skin. Theon keeps coaxing pleasure by playing with her chest and Sansa rewards him by lifting herself before sinking back down on him. “Gods, Sansa - ”

She does it again, and again and again, stopping occasionally to grind against him. It’s uneven and unrhythmic, and it’s driving him _mad_ \- but that seems to be the point. His hands slide down her sides, grabbing her hips, and he guides her, takes a little pressure off her legs by matching her thrusts with his own. 

Her walls clench around him; when her hand slides down to circle her clit, Theon can’t look away. Nails painted a pale pink flash every time he pulls out, in tandem with her spirals. Her movements become more uncoordinated, so he takes over, steady and deep and _gods_ , he can’t look away from where they’re joined, where he’s inside of her, her moans of pleasure louder and louder - 

Her body vibrates and Theon takes over with his fingers too until she stills, balancing with palms his chest. “Wow,” she whispers. Grinning, Theon flips her over. “Hey!”

“My turn,” he says, before kissing her, tasting her completely - a hint of butter from earlier popcorn, a hint of mint, but that irresistible taste of floral perfection that is Sansa Stark. And with the echoes her orgasm still vibrating around his throbbing cock, Sansa clenches her center and Theon comes with a few quick thrusts.

Somehow he doesn’t fall on top of her when he pulls out; instead, Sansa flips him back onto his back and curls up on his chest. Leaving kisses in the space about his heart, she tangles her legs with him. 

After a moment of catching his breath, Sansa begins to shake. Frowning, he’s surprised at her laughter. “What?”

“I think we could probably get in another round before our pizza gets here.” Looking up at him, her eyes glitter. “You up for it?”

Theon glances down at his dick, softening in the used condom. “Not yet, but I will be.”

Sansa grins into his lips.

  
  


**MARGAERY:** does robb know that you and theon are sleeping together?

 **SANSA:** No! And we’d like to keep it that way.  
Why?

 **MARGAERY:** oh  
okay

 **SANSA:** What?

 **MARGAERY:** well we’re out with theon and he keeps trying wingman him… 

**SANSA:** oh  
That’s fine. Theon can do whatever he wants.

 **MARGAERY:** i’m pretty sure he’s tanking on purpose. i saw him throw out a guy’s number and pretend to go the bathroom instead of talking to a girl

 **SANSA:** oh

 **MARGAERY:** wait have you two not talked about that? sleeping with other people?

 **SANSA:** It’s never come up.  
We’re usually… preoccupied

 **MARGAERY:** and how would you feel if he was ‘preoccupied’ with someone else?

 **SANSA:** … I’ll talk to him.

  
  


**SANSA:** Are you sleeping with other people?

 **THEON:** What? No!  
wait are you sleeping with other people?

 **SANSA:** No!  
I like our… arrangement.

 **THEON:** me too  
you’re more than i can handle sansa stark  
in the absolute dirtiest best way possible

 **SANSA:** Okay good. So we only sleep with each other and we don’t tell Robb or anyone in my family, right?

 **THEON:** right.  
i have told Yara though…

 **SANSA:** That’s fine... Margaery knows too.

 **THEON:** but no one else?

 **SANSA:** No one else.  
Also I’m currently in my apartment. Alone. I can be naked in less than ten minutes.

 **THEON:** i’ll be there in five

  
  


**August**

Sansa likes a lot about this arrangement with Theon. She enjoys how his hair feels between her fingers; she enjoys having him cook for her a couple nights a week; she enjoys consistent orgasms - _great_ orgasms too, that leave her shaking and wanting to curl up into his chest and purr like a cat.

But mostly, she enjoys kissing him.

Tonight, as they steal a few moments before family dinner and the chaos that comes along with it, he tastes like bubblegum and salt. He always tastes a bit salty and a bit sweet, and maybe that’s why it’s so addicting. Why kissing _Theon_ is so addicting. And right now, with his scalp under her fingers and his tongue caressing her own and the too-large console between them and preventing her from climbing into his lap, Sansa does not want to stop.

Unfortunately, the alarm on her phone goes off.

“Shit.” Theon leaves a quick kiss on her nose, in her hair, before pulling back and straightening his shirt and fixing his hair. Sansa takes a moment to check her face in the mirror. “Good?” he asks. 

Sansa wipes at the corner of his lips. “Just a bit of a lipstick… There.” She tilts her head. On the surface, he looks perfectly composed - but there’s pink in his cheeks and a darkness in his eyes. Sansa thinks that no one else will notice; she only notices because she’s so familiar with _this_ Theon now.

The turned-on Theon who makes out with her in the car outside of her family’s house.

Swallowing to wet her dry throat, Sansa stretches out her neck before exiting the car. Theon follows a second later and for a moment, Sansa goes to take his hand. His fingers lightly intertwined with hers.

But when a shadowed figure steps out of the front door, they quickly pull their hands away.

“There you two are!” 

Robb holds the door open wider and waits on the porch. Theon claps him on the shoulder. “Thanks, mate.” He slides past his best friend and into the house. Sansa makes to follow him, but Robb steps in front of her .

Sansa frowns. “Something wrong?”

Shaking his head, Robb tilts his head. “If you needed a ride, you can always ask me, you know.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I just feel like we haven’t really talked recently - ”

Sansa softens, wrapping her arms around her brother’s waist. “I still love you, you big dolt.” After a quick squeeze, she steps back. “Theon’s just closer.” 

Sighing, Robb steps back to let her inside the house. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I just miss my little sister.”

The smile escapes Sansa’s lips before she can stop it. Standing slightly taller on the inside step, she taps the top of his head. “That’s adorable.”

Robb groans and pushes past her into the living room.

Sansa grins in both adoration and relief.

  
  


**BRAN:** so how long have you and my sister been together?

 **THEON:** ew arya’s like MY sister

 **BRAN:** you know very well im talking about Sansa

 **THEON:** i dunno what you’re talking about

 **BRAN:** Hmm

  
  


**September**

Margaery’s party is loud and crazy and crowded by the time they arrive together.

Robb is already past drunk and Arya is somehow not, and Margaery is dancing on a table with both Gendry and Loras standing guard. Sansa takes one look at the chaos before dragging Theon to the kitchen. “I need a drink.”

One water and a Margaery body shot later, Theon and Sansa find themselves in the middle of the dance floor.

It starts innocently enough. Sansa rests her arms on his shoulders, her hands immediately grabbing his hair to play with the curls on the back of his neck. With his hands rest on her hips, his thumb moves back and forth, over the fabric of her dress. But his touch sends sparks down her spine, pooling in her belly. Moving closer, her breasts rub against his too-thin t-shirt; his groan is low, almost whispered into her neck. 

Her lips land on his collarbone; it’s easier to leave a kiss there. It’s even easier to graze her teeth against his skin too. 

Theon’s grip on her side tightens, not enough to hurt but enough to tell her he’s turned on. She grins when a hand slips into her hair, drawing her closer. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Sansa grinds against him; she can feel him growing harder and she can’t hide her smugness when she responds. “You’re not allowed to die, I need you for stuff.”

“Stuff?” The hand on her waist wraps onto her back, dipping lower. The one in her hair cradles her neck and Sansa tries not to let her eyes flutter when his mouth nears her cheek, his breath hot against her skin. “And what stuff do you have in mind?”

In that moment, Sansa is very glad of Margaery’s friendship. “Upstairs restroom. Right of the stairs.” Her lips linger over his, a ghost of a kiss, before she slips out of the crowd. She doesn’t know for sure if Theon follows her, but she strongly suspects he does.

At the top of the stairs, she feels his body heat behind her. His arm lightly rests on her hip again as she throws open the door to the empty bathroom. Once inside, she locks it. 

Before she can turn, Theon is pressed against her, his front to her back. Hands interlocked, he brings them up against the door, all of him against all of her. 

“You’ve gotten under my skin,” he says into her neck. He suckles on the space behind her ear and Sansa melts into him. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Leaning back, Sansa feels - she feels his body cradling hers, his heartbeat against her shoulder blades, his words against her skin. They glide smoothly, caressing her, each goosebump raised a tiny hole enough for the words to sink into her. With each whisper, those words pull her deeper, set fire to her blood. Their hands are the only skin to skin contact; but it’s that connection that binds them together and Sansa needs _more_.

“I need you,” she says, pushing back enough to move from the door. Theon spins and lifts her, settling her on the counter. Bottles and boxes are shoved aside, but Sansa does not let go him; her fingers tangle into his shirt and his lips are tethered to the skin of her neck.

Her hands slip under his shirt; she can feel the muscles ripple as her fingers dig into his side, his arms caging her. Theon slips a hand up her back, fingers spread; a web of his skin on hers, pulling her as close as possible with all their clothes still on.

But then Theon places a hand on each thigh before spreading them and stepping in between. Sansa moans. The skirt of her dress is hiked up her waist, only soft pink underwear between his hands and the center of her heat. As his hands move slowly closer to where they need to be, Sansa draws him in by his neck. Every sensation, every movement feels amplified; the bass of the music below echoes in the room and maybe that’s why Sansa feels like she’s shaking. Or maybe it’s because Theon is looking at her stormy and intense eyes, as if she’s his undoing and his salvation.

This kiss is not close to their first, but it’s different. His teeth graze her lips, teasing, before his tongue dips into her mouth to caress her own. She loses herself in that moment, in the kiss, in him; heat is building within her, shivers dancing on her skin. One of Theon’s thumbs grazes the front of her underwear and Sansa almost jumps - everything is sensitive, ever part of her in tune with him. Groaning into her lips, Theon presses right at her clit and Sansa almost screams.

Instead, Theon pulls back; his eyes dance but his face is serious - there’s an intensity to his movements. And when pulls off her underwear, kneeling in front of her, he never looks away from her eyes. He’s watching her, studying her, examining her for reaction, every motion, every breath. 

Sansa may lose herself in his eyes alone.

Except that Theon descends on her, his tongue pressed flat against her entire center. A long swipe first, then a swirl of his tongue against her clit. Sansa grips the edge of the counter to keep from falling, both of Theon’s arms holding her open for his mouth to kiss. Her fingers curl into his hair, making him groan, the movements of his tongue more determined, a little less measured. The vibrations make _her_ vibrate.

When his tongue slips into her entrance, Sansa almost falls off the counter; but Theon bends her knee, placing her foot on the counter top. With a hand now free, he spreads her further, his tongue back to her clit, circling and circling, before a finger circles her opening.

 _“Theon_ ,” she says, her grip tightening in his hair. “Please.” 

With a smirk that she feels against her thighs, Theon inserts one finger. Slowly, _so slowly_ , he pulls out and in, coaxing her. The wetness grows; he’s the fire and she’s wax and she’s melting. Another finger; Sansa can’t help the noises escaping her lips. Maybe she should be concerned that someone may hear them… but the door is locked and Theon is now kissing her again, tongue against her clit and fingers now bent and summoning her…

It’s too much. It’s _so_ much.

Sansa comes, shaking, Theon devouring her whole. He leaves softer kisses, tender nips, before kissing around her legs and up to her neck. When he finally reaches her lips, she catches her breath enough to kiss him back. He tastes like salt and _her_ and her legs tighten around hips.

“Theon…” Her hands travel up his chest, under his shirt, around his back. She kisses his neck, his shoulder, before beginning to unbuckle his belt. “I need you.”

Theon helps, removing his own pants and underwear, until her hands automatically seek out his warmth. Pumping his cock in both hands, Sansa watches his chest muscles ripples. Theon rests his forehead against her hair. “Condom?” he asks, voice cracking when Sansa swirls her thumb over the crown of his dick. 

Sansa reaches one hand into the drawer beside her, feeling around until she captures a packet. Grinning, she hands it to him. “There was a reason I picked this bathroom.”

“I love you.”

Maybe it should be earth-shattering, mind-blowing, to hear those words from his lips, but instead Sansa rolls her eyes. “I know. Now hurry up.”

If Theon realizes how important this moment is, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he rips open the condom and slides it on. When he aligns them, just before pushing in, he captures her face in his hands. “I mean it, you know.”

Her face softens. She kisses both of his hands, one at a time, before kissing his lips. “I love you too.”

Theon enters her, one swift thrust, and it’s like coming home.

It’s quick after that; the intensity remains, Sansa unable to look away from him, even when her eyes feel like they need to flutter shut, to absorb all the _feeling_. But she’s drowning and he keeps saving her. 

Sansa doesn’t expect to come, not again, but there’s something about the way Theon thrusts and settles, with a swivel of his hips, as if he needs to be _deep_ … as if he needs to crawl under her skin and live there. She clutches to his shirt, to his shoulders; he’s taking but he’s giving too, his thumb now rubbing gently against her clit again. The pressure - his eyes gentle but steady, the rhythm sensual and demanding, the heat of him and the fire in her - builds and builds, until it is too much - and Sansa falls apart with a tiny scream into Theon’s neck.

As Sansa pulses against him, she feels his smirk against her cheek. His movements continue until his shoulders tense - and then Theon groans, releasing himself in her, hot pulses inside her as he sinks into her arms.

Several moments later, as their breathing levels and Theon finally, slowly, pulls out to dispose of the condom, Sansa straightens out her dress, flattens her hair. Theon kisses her forehead as he zips up his pants. The clean up is quiet, efficient, but it’s the affectionate kisses and lingering touches that fill the silence.

Before unlocking the door, Sansa kisses him softly. She hopes he understands what she’s saying.

Theon smiles into the kiss.

She shouldn’t have worried. Of course he understands.

  
  


**THEON:** i think i’m ready to tell Robb

 **SANSA:** I think I’m ready too.  
But only if it comes up.

 **THEON:** the secrecy turning you on, love?

 **SANSA:** More than you know.

 **THEON:** oh i think i have a good idea

  
  


**October**

**BRAN:** i need help choosing a costume for halloween

 **SANSA:** oh i can help with that!

 **THEON:** sansa’s good at picking out good costumes

 **ARYA:** sansa is good at everything.

 **RICKON:** there’s probably something she’s bad at.  
like... i dunno  
maybe she’s a bad kisser

 **THEON:** no she’s good at that too

 **ARYA:** what

 **RICKON:** what

 **THEON:** what

 **ROBB:** wHAT

 **BRAN:** called it

 **SANSA:** Oh yeah, Theon and I have been fucking for months.

 **ROBB:** can please not use ‘fucking’ in the same sentence as my BABY SISTERS

 **THEON:** hold the fuck up love  
we haven’t been JUST fucking  
we’ve been dating  
...right?

 **SANSA:** Oh Theon

 **ARYA:** stop trying to dtr in the groupchat

 **SANSA:** Of course we’re dating, Theon!  
I just didn’t realize YOU realized we were dating.

 **THEON:** of course we’re fucking dating i am dating the FUCK out of you  
why else would i agree to dressing up as amy and rory with you this halloween  
your crazy matches mine

 **SANSA:** (:

 **RICKON:** i’m gonna barf

 **ARYA:** don’t worry i got the trash can

 **ROBB:** now they’re running across the bar to each other  
and now they’re snogging in front of me  
someone save me

 **BRAN:** you brought this onto yourself  


**Author's Note:**

> @leopoldfitz on tumblr and @ripsaras on twitter


End file.
